Lance and I have been talking about people who we admire and have been role models . I didn’t choose a celebrity or world leader, the usual choices .. I chose my maternal grandparents . I’ve been thinking a lot lately about the people who really shaped me, and I keep coming back to my Granny and Mick. Honestly, they were just solid. No fuss, no drama, just good, steady people who got on with life and somehow made everything feel safe and simple.
Maybe it’s because I’m heading into my 60th year soon, but I do find myself reflecting more. Looking back, joining the dots, and really seeing what mattered—and what still should.
And it’s funny, isn’t it, how the things that felt so ordinary back then now feel so special?
Take Sunday evenings, for example. We didn’t have fancy meals or anything you’d see on Instagram now. It was salad, tinned ham, tinned mandarin oranges, and a good dollop of Wonder Whip. And if we were lucky, that frozen cream dessert that felt like the height of luxury in the 70s. Tea was always of the leaf variety- tea bags wouldn’t do .. and always served in a china cup and saucer.
We loved it. Properly loved it. There was no overthinking it—it was just what we had, and it was enough. After tea Granny would shake her glass jar which housed Mint imperials and we were allowed 2 each. We would then sit and watch Antiques Roadshow or the early version of Master chef with Loyd Grossman !! We all loved “The House of Elliot” which was a series about two sisters running a fashion business in the 1920’s – I loved it so much I called my eldest daughter Evie in honour of one the heroines.
Granny & Mick didn’t have a lot of money and lived a frugal lifestyle , I think that came from the life they’d lived. They were around during the war, dealing with rationing, making do with very little, stretching everything. Nothing was wasted. You learned to be resourceful, patient, and grateful, because you had to be. That mindset stayed with them—it shaped everything.
Mick himself had such a strong work ethic. He’d been in the Air Force during the war, and later built his own life as a self-employed electrician, running a burglar alarm business. Nothing was handed to him—he worked for everything, steadily and honestly, and took real pride in what he did.
And their story together always stayed with me. Mick was a friend of my granny’s younger brother—that’s how they first met and fell in love. Then the war came, and like so many couples of that time, they were separated.
During a visit home, my mum, Christine, was conceived – their only child So when Mick came back from the war, he wasn’t just returning to the woman he loved—he was meeting his daughter too, properly, for the first time.
I always smile when I think of that moment my mum used to talk about. Seeing this man in the house, not knowing who he was, she apparently shouted, “Make the nasty man go away!” She had no idea this “stranger” was actually her dad, and would become such a huge, loving presence in her life. They struggled to give her the best in life.
Granny, carried her own quiet strength. She suffered with rheumatism from a childhood sports accident—she’d been hit with a hockey puck—and she walked with a stick for as long as I can remember. But she never complained. Not once. No moaning, no self-pity, she just got on with it.
And Mick? He was completely devoted to her. Totally supportive in every way. You could see it in how he looked after her, how he put her first without hesitation. It wasn’t loud or showy—it was just constant, dependable love.
People weren’t materialistic in those days either. It didn’t matter what house you lived in or what car was on the drive—if you even had one. There was more concern for your neighbours, more community. People looked out for each other.
And the work ethic? Completely different. You didn’t expect things to just appear or rely on credit to have what you couldn’t afford. You worked for it. You saved. And when you finally got something, it meant something.
That’s the thing. It was enough.
These days, everything feels like it has to be bigger, better, newer. There’s this sense that if it’s not top of the range, it’s not worth having. But growing up, we mended things. We made do. If something broke, you fixed it or found another use for it. There was pride in that. And I don’t just mean possessions—I think that applied to relationships too.
When I think about my grandparents’ marriage, that’s what stands out most. The patience. The respect. That quiet, unwavering commitment to each other. They worked at their marriage every single day, without making a fuss about it. And that kind of love feels a bit rare now.
I do worry sometimes, if I’m honest. About where we’re heading, and what the next generation is growing up with—and without. Not everyone has those strong role models anymore. The ones who show you, not tell you, what it means to be kind, patient, respectful, and loyal.
Manners feel like they’re slipping. Basic respect, even. And there’s this sense of entitlement that creeps in, like everything should be instant and perfect without any waiting or effort. It’s a very different world.
We’ve become a bit of a “now” society. Everything on demand, everything fast. And I get it—I’m on TikTok, I scroll like everyone else—but when you stop and think about it, we’re constantly chasing that little dopamine hit. One video, then the next, then the next. It never really satisfies you, does it?
Back then, the excitement was completely different. I can still picture it—sat on the edge of the sofa, waiting for the weekly episode of Dallas to start. Just one episode a week! And that was enough to get you properly excited. You’d talk about it, look forward to it, make a whole evening of it.
Now we can have everything all at once—and somehow it feels like less.
My grandparents have been gone for over 20 years now, but their legacy lives on . I still feel them with me. In the quiet moments, in the difficult decisions, I often find myself wondering what they’d say, what advice they’d give me, and whether what I’m doing would make them proud. Everytime I see wine gums and liquorice allsorts I think of Mick as they were his favourite.
I think in many ways, they’re still guiding me—just in a different way.
I’m not saying everything was better back then—of course it wasn’t—but there’s definitely something we’ve lost along the way. That appreciation for simple things. That patience. That sense of making the most of what you have. I miss the smell of Granny’s Max Factor face powder, her lily of the valley perfume and her nulon hand cream. Mick was always smart with a shirt tie and jacket .. usually brown , with his brylcreme hair.
Granny and Mick taught me that a good life isn’t about having everything—it’s about appreciating what’s right in front of you. Looking after your people. Taking your time. Being kind.
Simple, really. But I do think it’s something we have to try a bit harder to hold onto now—for ourselves, and for the generations coming after us. Micks legacy was hand holding – he would always hold Granny’s when they were next to her and now I’m lucky enough to have Lance who does the same to me… so the cycle lives on
LCChaosandhome 
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